


Coming Up Raw and Empty

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blood Drinking, Hostile Climate, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Planet Destruction, Post-Apocalypse, Romance, Starvation, Withdrawal, bites, h/c_bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 07:29:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7160084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benny lapped at blood long since dried, probably tasting like sawdust on Dean’s skin. There was a hunger in his eyes that replicated itself in Dean’s stomach, a hunger that was infinitely more intense and sinister. Dean would give and give and give and give, yet he was nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Up Raw and Empty

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for h/c_bingo amnesty for the prompt ‘bites.’

 

This was everything and nothing like Purgatory.

Hunger was everything here. While there had been berries and less than savory meat in Purgatory, everything in this world crumbled into dust as soon as it came into contact with the toxic air that Dean was _somehow_ still breathing. The hunt that had been a living, breathing part of Dean, sating him in Purgatory and not only because it had been reality, that hunt had now turned into bare bones need, an endless search for something he could no longer acquire. Every time he came across something he could eat, something that hadn’t crumbled into nothingness, it was little to sate the gnawing beast in him that was being human, the need to eat before his body shut down and Benny right along with him.

Dean tried not to think about it.

They walked until Dean couldn’t feel his toes, stopped when the faraway howling that never quite caught up to them inevitably lead them into vacant, blown to hell buildings with little cover and even smaller hope of food. If Dean could replenish himself then Benny could too, but what one cannot have the other cannot have either.

Still, Dean bared his neck, a habit of days past before the very air clung like death to his skin and robbed everything either of them needed without warning. For all he and Ben knew they were the last standing, as if Death’s final joke to a vampire and a human.

Benny humored him, or maybe it was just the need for comfort that not even Dean could ignore after due time. The vampire moved closer, pushing Dean gently against the nearest wall, paws not worth pushing away when any touch was better than nothing. Benny’s teeth grazed against his neck, but other than that there was nothing worth the taking, not when Dean’s supplies were so low from lack of nourishment. The vampire minded but didn’t voice it, bearded cheek scratching against Dean’s in what the once hunter accepted as an apologetic nuzzle. Whatever the hell Benny needed to apologize for.

Dean froze and took in the blood lust in Benny’s eyes, how quickly his gaze grew vacant once the realization sunk in. Benny lapped at the blood long since dried tainting Dean’s starkly freckled neck, mocking Benny as the splatters of it caught his and held it for long seconds until he relented. Dean winced, supposing the blood tasted like sawdust on his skin, worse, like the ash that weighed down the air around them. It clogged Dean’s lungs, making him cough intermittently throughout the day, making him wish he no longer had strength enough to do that.

The hunger in Benny’s eyes reappeared, a hunger that was infinitely more intense and sinister than the one replicating itself in Dean’s stomach. Dean would give and give and give and give, as he already had, but there was nothing more in him that Benny needed. Not really. Still, he would bare his neck and sometimes let Benny suck at his empty arteries, pulling forth sparse drops of liquid that held much more life than Dean felt wrestling in his bones.

He was nothing now. No purpose, no function, no strength left in him for hope or worry or anything resembling something even remotely human. Dean ran cautious fingers over the bites lingering on his neck as proof of his vacant purpose. There was comfort in knowing that he was Benny’s, small but full of fading light.

Given ample time and Benny could be hungry for _other_ things these days. They clawed at their torn, dust-covered clothing to reach skin. Benny claimed there was still a warmth in Dean that he was addicted to, and the familiar chill of Benny’s skin, while unpleasant at first, became Dean’s pleasant reminder that they were both still alive.

Benny cupped his cheek, thumb brushing over Dean’s dry lips and chasing away the droplets of blood there. Dried too. Benny made a keening noise in his throat and Dean let the vampire push his head down until it met the concrete, let him kiss Dean like every kiss was a goodbye.

“In the afterlife, brother,” he mumbled, lips like ice pressing against Dean’s mouth.

Dean clutched his bearded cheeks, while he could still feel, and he pulled Benny closer until the ash couldn’t touch them and not even a tidal wave could separate them.

**FIN**


End file.
